So.  It’s the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.


Confession: I actually am NOT fine with the world ending tomorrow.  


Reasons I am not ok with this whole “world-end” thing:

• I just ordered new jeans online, and they’re not supposed to arrive until NEXT WEEK.
• There is a little person growing in Jenna’s womb, and I really would like to know if it is a girl or a boy.
• I would like to have the opportunity to get to know said child in womb.
• Taylor is graduating high school, and at the party we’re having a pig roast, and I just love pig roasts.
• There are a lot of weddings going on this summer that I/Peter was invited to, and one of my top 25 favorite things to do it attend weddings.
• I still didn’t print the pictures to put in the frames that are hanging empty above my couch.
• I’d really like to know what it feels like to not have any car payments (… that won’t be for like 5 years or something).
• I need to see the FINAL PART of Harry Potter.
• I haven’t met a celebrity.
• I don’t have a Twitter.
• And the most important reason: I want need to know what Peter is getting me for my birthday that is in 38 days.

Phone conversation with Peter about the world ending:

On the phone.  May 17, 2011.


Peter: So when I was leaving work today, I got into the parking lot, and there were these guys there with flamethrowers-


Sara: Flamethrowers?!?


Peter: Flamethrowers!!  And all these jackhammers and machines.  They were laying down asphalt in the company parking lot, and I was thinking, ‘How am I supposed to get out of here??’  I didn’t know what to do!!


Sara: Well, what did you do?


Peter: I-


Sara: Did you take out your wand and say ‘leviate’??  And then lift your car across the parking lot onto the road????  (I said that in a British accent)


Peter: Yes.


…


Peter: Actually, I just sat in my car for like 10 minutes and waited for them to be done and let me through.


Sara: Oh.


FYI: After a little Google searching, I think that the spell I was looking for was Wingardium Leviosa.   Check out this awesome website I found!!

In other news, this morning when I was brushing my teeth with my electric toothbrush, I don’t know what I was thinking, but I started drooling or something, and so I took the toothbrush out of my mouth.


When it was still on.  


And then I changed my shirt and was late for work because I was busy getting the toothpaste off my face and out of my hair.  I had on a button down shirt with a vest thing over.  I just changed the bottom shirt.


And guess what?  When I was running to my car, I noticed that surprise!  There’s toothpaste spattered all over my vest too.


Awesome.

Yesterday I was talking on the phone with Adrianna.  We started talking about the blog post that I wrote on Sunday.  She liked it (Adrianna, for those of you who don’t know, is hard to please).  Then, she started laughing.  She started laughing really hard.  

Sometimes I wish I carried a voice recorder in my purse so that I could secretly record the conversations that Peter and I have when we go out to dinner.  Friday night was such a night.   Unfortunately for you, I don’t really remember what was so fricking hilarious at dinner on Friday night, so.  Sorry about that one.  But I assure you, Peter and I are fricking hilarious. 


The Easter bunny left me a $25 gift card that could be used at a number of restaurants, and Peter and I chose to go to a place called Longhorn Steakhouse.  Neither of us had ever been, and we figured, hey.  Why not?  So, we went.  


It’s a pretty nice place with really great food.  Like, REALLY great food.  As in, stuff yourself past the limit of full, but then KEEP EATING when someone (coughPETERcough) says, “No.  We are GETTING dessert.  And you will EAT IT.  And LIKE it.”  Even as I’m sitting across the booth from him saying how I’m going to DIE because I’m SO FULL and how I need to LAY DOWN because OMGOODNESS my stomach is going to LITERALLY explode.


Peter just couldn’t figure out why I was SO FULL.  I figured it out quite quickly.  


On the beverage menu, they had strawberry lemonade.  I LOVE strawberry lemonade, but I don’t drink it often because of a little incident that happened like OVER 2 years ago I think?  Of course, Peter would be there.  And of COURSE he would bring it up every time I’m even thinking about getting strawberry lemonade….


Flashback: Over 2 years or something… shortly after Peter and I started dating.  Red Robin (yummmm).  Characters include Skywalker Peter and one of our friends whom I shall call Brenda.  We were sitting at one of those tables that has the booth on one side and the chairs on the other.  Peter and I were sitting in the booth side, and Brenda was sitting in the chair.  By the way – if you’re wondering why I remember every single detail of this horrific event, it’s because whenever we go to Red Robin and sit in the vicinity of where we were sitting that night, Peter says, “Hey, remember that time blah blah blah?” (don’t want to ruin the story for anyone).  Anyways.  I was on the end so I had easy access in and out of the booth.  


After browsing the menu (I can almost never make up my mind quickly when I am at a restaurant, because I toy with the idea of trying something new for so long, but then when the waiter/-tress comes along, I always panic and order the same thing that I always get), I decided on a strawberry lemonade as a drink.


Have you had this drink at Red Robin?  It looks like this:

It is delicious.  Something that you should probably notice before I continue: there are actual strawberry chunks in this delicious refreshment.


As with any restaurant, we got our food before we got our drinks.  Standard.  I started sucking mine down because it was SO GOOD.  YUM.  Looking at this picture that I’ve just posted makes me want to drink one.  


As I was drinking away, the straw somehow became… clogged.  So instead of being the mature adult that my mom tried teaching me to be, I just sucked harder on that dang straw.  Before I knew it, a huge chunk of strawberry shot to the back of my throat, and I was gagging and spitting strawberry lemonade every where.  And by everywhere I mean all over the table, my lap, and the (when I had the sense to steer away from the table) floor.  Good thing I was on the end.  I was coughing and choking and gagging all at the same time, and I didn’t know what to do.  Strawberry lemonade was coming out of my nose and mouth and MAN did I drink THAT MUCH strawberry lemonade that it’s suddenly EVERYWHERE?!


During the entire episode that lasted 45 about 2 minutes, Brenda is looking at me from across the table in shock, and Peter is staring at me with that why-am-I-dating-this-girl look of horror on this face.  Awesome.


Sara: ohmyGAWD.  *gasp* OHMYGAWD *gasp* Did you SEE that?????  I was CHOKING.  I seriously almost DIED.  *deep breathing*


Brenda: *laughing uncontrollably*


Peter: Are you serious right now?


Sara: *look of confusion – shouldn’t he be HAPPY I’m ALIVE??*


Peter: Sar, EVERYONE saw you.  This ENTIRE RESTAURANT saw you.

Sara: Well, at least I’m alive. 


…


Sara: I need more napkins, I think.


Fade out.


So yeah, on Friday night when I was looking at the strawberry lemonade on the menu, Peter made sure to remind me of THAT episode.  


I ordered it anyway.


And it was delicious.


So delicious, in fact, that I sucked down a glass and a half before we got our food.  And then I was full.  Too full to finish my steak (we brought it home), too full to even look at my baked potato, and too full for dessert.  Which we NEVER get, I might add.  But Peter wanted to like, go all out or something, and since we had a gift card (that barely covered one of our plates), he decided we could.  Point of story: it was amazing food and we will be returning when we both get significant raises, and then when we DO return, I will be ordering water and not even look at the bev menu.


I must say though, my favorite part of dinner was when a group of 4 walked in, and one of the men was holding a stuffed chicken.  I’m being completely serious.  He was carrying a stuffed chicken, cradled in his arm like it was a real chicken, and then he oh so conveniently set it on the ground, right where it would be staring at Peter and I during our entire meal.


Proof: (I have the proof on my camera, but I’m writing this blog on a Mac, and I have no idea how to get my pictures on it.  I’m usually a PC user.  Peter is converting to a Mac user, and while this MacBook Air is really light and thin and everything… I just don’t have the patience to not know my way around it.  I’m not all tech-savvy like he is.  So the proof will come when I am on a PC.  I promise.)


After dinner we went to see the movie Water for Elephants.  A fantastic book that was also a (surprisingly) good movie.  When we got out of the theater, I told Peter that I REALLY liked that movie.  His response? “Yeah, you were crying the whole time…”  No.  For the record, I was NOT crying the whole time.  Only during the parts of like, animal cruelty.  I’m SORRY that I have a HEART.


Speaking of animals, I hate dogs (and cats) (and all pets) (animals belong outside).  Peter, on the other hand, LOVES dogs.  Actually, now that I think about it, he has the same reaction to dogs as I have with (most) babies: “AWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!  Look at that cute little puppy/babyyyyyyyyy.  Isn’t she SO adorable????” Or, if there’s an ugly one, “Yikes, check out THAT puppy/baby.  Woof.”  To Peter, all dogs are “puppies”.  It disgusts me.


One day, I was doing a little Facebook stalking, and I came across someone that I’m not really friends with, but we had a class together once or something, and she has a dog.  A Cavalier King Charles.  

Cute, right?  Well, I made the MISTAKE of telling Peter that if God forbid we EVER had a *gulp* DOG, it would be this one and I am naming her Ruby.


Peter got aaaaaaaall excited about it, and started googling the puppy right away and saying crazy things like “Maybe I SHOULDN’T re-sign my apartment lease, and then I can live in a place where I can have a puppy!!!!”


Slow down there, killer.  You think this whole puppy-thing is happening soon?  Try like, 20 years down the line… MAYBE 20 years down the line.  


For the record, this conversation happened in like February or something, and dear Peter is still talking about our never non-existant puppy named Ruby that I “agreed” to having.  


Seriously?  I’ve told Peter this one too: “PETER.  You KNEW that I HATED dogs BEFORE you started DATING me.  This is YOUR fault.”  And then Peter responds in his calm manner, “Well, love of my life, you knew that I loved dogs before you started dating me.  So.”


Touche.


For the record: Not liking dogs doesn’t make me a bad person.  It just makes me a person that believes animals belong outside.  Not inside where they can shed and bark and drool and poop and pee on the carpet and jump on you and rip your clothes and eat your shoes and smell bad.


I’m being 100% serious right now.

I thought that I would introduce you to my mom, who is just such a wonderful mother and person.

In recent weeks, I have been asked not very many questions, but these questions have been asked repeatedly, so that makes for a lot of questions.


Question 1: What’d you do THAT for?


I don’t know if you noticed, but my blog recently had a face lift.  Well, my dad noticed.  He doesn’t like it.  He specifically said, “I don’t like it.”  He asked me why I changed it.


Well sorry, DAD, I’m sorry that I wanted to add a little more SPICE in my LIFE.  GAWD.


Really though, when I first started my blog, I honestly didn’t think that it would get as much traffic as it does… So I did something super plain and simple, as in, I just went with whatever blogger chose for me (Obviously blogger doesn’t know as much about me as Google Ads does).  But upon further analysis, I decided that the only thing that is plain and simple about me is my name (thanks Mom and Dad…), but THEN when I was thinking about it, I’m not THAT complex because I am an idiot and don’t think before I talk, so everyone knows what I’m thinking anyways.  AND I don’t know how to lie, because people can guess what my emotion is just by my face.  UGH.  No secrets here.


Speaking of not thinking before talking, I was watching a TV show, and a wife was getting all riled-up and angry at her husband, and when she asked him if he thought about what he was going to say before he spoke, I really liked what he said: “Yes, I do.  And in my head, it’s amazing, and then when I SAY it, I ALWAYS impress myself.”  Yeah, I really liked that.


Another reason that I decided to add a little pizzazz to the old blog was because darling Peter gave me an early birthday present: http://www.realworldsara.com.  So now with this ritzy domain that I have, I thought I’d do a complete makeover.  Which isn’t completely done yet, but I don’t really feel like working on it any more.


Question 2: Do you know how to say…??


No.  I don’t.  Being able to pretend that I can speak and understand Spanish has it’s ups and downs.  One of the ups is that I got hired because of it.  One of the downs is that people think that you know every single mother trucking word.  Do you know how many words exist in Spanish?  A lot.  Not as many as English, but that almost makes it MORE difficult, because there aren’t as many ways to say “idiot” in Spanish as there are English, so you’re stuck sounding like the idiot repeating the same word.


The other day I sent a very hostile email in Spanish that had a lot of CAPS LOCK AND EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!!!!  Because the man I was dealing with didn’t make ANY sense, and this was like the 5th communication or something.  I was SO mad that I even translated the email literally word for word and sent it to Peter so that HE could get mad too (not that he doesn’t have enough on his plate to worry about – specifically what to get me for my birthday), and he was all “WHOA. This guy is NUTS.  How do you DEAL with PEOPLE like this, love of my life?!” or something to that degree.  Then he asked if I responded with “wtf???” in Spanish.


Confession: I don’t know how to swear in Spanish.  I know that it’s like, the first thing that you’re supposed to learn or something when you live in a foreign country, but I just… didn’t.  I don’t really swear that much in English though, so it’s a pretty simple thing to leave out of my Spanish vocabulary.  I actually swear the most around my mom, because it makes her kind of mad, and that’s our favorite thing to do.  


And how was I supposed to go about learning these swear words, anyways?  I taught 8th graders, which I KNOW that they know swear words, but I didn’t think it was appropriate to have a lesson consisting of an exercise where I ask them how to say asshole and they tell me.  They DO know the word bitch though… I don’t know if you remember THAT episode…  So anyways, I just never learned swear words.  Sorry I’m lame.


Question 3: Did you get that text?


-“Was it a picture text?”


-“Yes.”


-“Then no.”


Oh, the joys of cell phones.  For some reason, my phone refuses to receive picture texts.  Why, I have no idea.  It USED to, and then it just… stopped.  This frustrates me to no end.  It also frustrates Jenna, who likes to send me pictures of outfits/baby stuff/gifts/anything she wants me to judge, because she knows that yes, I’m judgey, but I will give her my honest opinion about it, even if that opinion is, “Jenna.  Seriously?  That is HIDEOUS.”  And then she gets all offended, and I’m all “You ASKED me my OPINION, and you have KNOWN me for twenty three YEARS, so you should know by NOW that I will tell you the TRUTH and not SUGAR COAT it.”  And then she sighs and says, “I knooooooooow.”  


So.  No, I do not receive picture texts, so stop sending them to me, because I don’t want you to think that I’m ignoring you or that I think you’re stupid so I just am not responding.  It’s not you, it’s me.


And now, the question that I get asked MOST often:


Question 4: Have you always been so attractive?


No.